


take this weight of mine

by ToriCeratops



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bondage, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Riding Crops, Safeword Fail, pain play, sub Malcolm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22274341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: It's been a year since he was taken, since John left him with more shattered in his life than just his wrist.  Malcolm desperately wants parts of himself he has lost back, but is he ready?  Whether he is or not, Gil is there to hold him through it all.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	take this weight of mine

**Author's Note:**

> This fic centers around a bdsm scene between a couple in a long term relationship that fails through no fault of either player. Sometimes bad shit happens, and it is how we react that makes us who we are. 
> 
> Special thanks to [tess_genor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess_genor/pseuds/tess_genor) for the absolutely fabulous beta. This fic would not be what it is without you. 

_Is anybody out there?_

_Can you take this weight of mine?_

_Is anybody out there?_

_Can you lead me to the light?_

_You are not alone_

_I've been here the whole time singing you a song (ooh)_

_I will carry you, I will carry you_

_-Ruelle: Carry You_

* * *

“Are you absolutely sure about this, baby?” Gil has his fingers cupped near the edge of Malcolm’s chin. His brows are drawn together in deep concern, eyes flicking back and forth as he takes in all of the younger man in front of him. 

“I’m ready.” Malcolm spreads his hands wide over Gil’s chest, then slowly slides them upward, inch by inch until he can clasp them behind Gil’s neck and lean forward to steal a gentle kiss. “I want it, please.” 

It’s been a year since they’ve been able to do this, since he’s felt secure enough to really let go. He loves and trusts Gil with all his heart, but it’s been difficult since he was kidnapped, since he was broken down by someone else, someone who had no desire to put him back together again afterwards. They’ve worked so hard to pick up all the pieces together and it's been tortuously slow. He doesn’t just want this, he craves it, he _needs_ it. He needs to trust, to hand himself over to the person he trusts most in the world and know that when he’s done he’ll still be cared for, loved.

He will still be whole.

They kiss for a long time, Malcolm getting lost in the softness of his lips, of the taste of smooth whiskey on his tongue. He’s clinging to Gil, up on the balls of his feet in order to reach him, so Gil doesn’t have to bend down to him. It’s painful, the fear in his chest that he might have to let go.

But Gil has a firm hand on his shoulder and one on his hip, not holding him too tight, but grounding all the same. 

“Okay, baby. I got you. I’ll take care of you. I promise. Do you hear me?” Gil speaks directly against Malcolm’s lips, a soft undertone of his own desire breaking through.

“Yes. Yes, sir.” 

Gil’s smile is instant, eyes bright and pleased. “Good boy.”

The praise makes Malcolm’s whole body sing.

He is so ready for this.

“I want you to go to the back of our closet. Pick out two toys, but only one that is made to cause pain. Then come back here and lay them out for me before getting undressed. Fold your clothes up on the chair. By then I’ll have everything ready. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” It glides of his tongue, so familiar and warm. He loves saying it, seeing the smile Gil always gives him when he’s good.

Malcolm goes to do as he’s told without any further prompting, slipping out of Gil’s grip to cross the room. In a small wardrobe tucked away in the back of the closet is a wide array of choices. The top shelf has their candles, cock rings, and plugs of all sorts of sizes. Hanging on the hooks are three paddles, two crops, two different floggers, a whip they’ve never actually used, and an array of bondage equipment. There’s even a cane leaning in the back corner. He takes a second to touch their first paddle with a fond smile, a simple black leather piece Gil had bought for him what feels like a lifetime ago. Below that is a drawer with various clamps and metal objects they’ve tried once or twice including a knife Gil swore he’d never touch again after he’d accidentally drawn blood - even if it was just a knick. The very last drawer has their violet wand collection they had just started before… before they’d had to stop. He chooses a basic plug and his favorite riding crop. Tonight is about refinding his baseline rather than pushing any limits. They’ve spent months relearning how deep he can go into subspace just by being told what to do, now he needs to introduce something simple, but sharp.

Maybe next time he’ll bring out something with a little more bite to it. 

They just need to get through tonight first.

After he sets the two items on the bed, Malcolm loosens his tie and turns around to find Gil standing behind him. He’s in just his black boxer briefs - the expensive luxury ones he’d bought for him - all soft skin and lean muscle usually hidden by his layers of shirts and sweaters. Malcolm feels a little spike of giddiness that he’s the only one who gets to see what he’s hiding every night. 

“You gonna put on a show for me?” Gil asks, barely hiding his smirk.

But Malcolm just raises an eyebrow, knowing Gil fully knows the answer is no. Never again. Not ever. Not after that first mortifying attempt almost three years earlier right after they’d started seeing each other while he was on assignment in New York. He still has the scar on the back of his head. 

Gil just laughs and reaches out himself, gently batting Malcolm’s hands away. “Here. Let me.” 

After his tie is gone Gil’s fingers move slower, lingering on each button and dipping in beneath the fine fabric of Malcolm’s shirt to ghost against the bare skin beneath. “I see you picked out the crop. You want to tell me why that one?”

Malcolm’s eyes flutter closed after a particularly soft touch against his abdomen. “I uh, I needed something really basic. I didn’t think I could take too much.”

“What about one of the paddles?” He can tell Gil’s trying to gauge where he is, what he’s really looking for right now. As he works at Malcolm’s belt he leans in to mouth at his neck, leaving gentle nips and bites along the tight tendon there until it draws a sharp breath from Malcolm. 

“Too, ah, too heavy.” His toes curl into the carpet as Gil’s fingers slip beneath his waistband, teasing. “No blunt forces. And it’s not that bad but I, I uh….” He doesn’t realize how much he’s shaking just at that thought until Gil lean’s in so their foreheads are resting against one another. 

“Okay, baby. Shh. I got you. You’re safe.” 

He recognizes these hands. He knows this touch, this voice. “I know. Thank you, sir.” 

And that smile. God, he loves that smile.

Gil finishes getting him undressed then guides him back towards the bed with a deep kiss and gentle hands. For a long time they lay there like any other night, kissing and touching. Gil can never seem to touch him enough. His hands are always everywhere, tracing the lines of his muscle, memorizing old and new scars alike, running through his hair, all while Malcolm drowns in the way Gil kisses, like he needs it to breathe. Sometimes, Malcolm thinks he could go the rest of his life with _just this._ Just the way Gil touches him, owns him inside and out with only his mouth and tongue. Last night, and so many nights before for the last eleven months, this was what there was, kisses, hands, an easy, simple fuck and then Gil would help tie him up so they could sleep.

Tonight, the restraints come early.

“Lift your leg up for me, baby.” Gil doesn’t need to tell him what to do, his hands are directing him just fine, but Malcolm needs to hear it, needs to focus on his voice to keep him grounded to reality. 

He does as he’s told, making room for Gil’s hand to slide down between them and tease at his length, around the soft skin of his balls then lower. His touch is lighting a fire all along Malcolm’s flesh. “That’s it, baby. You’re gonna do so good for me tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Just for you.” 

“That’s right.” Gil agrees. His hands disappear for just a moment then return, one warm and slick and teasing at his entrance. Malcolm can’t stop the way he lifts his hips, opens himself up even more. “So perfect for me, baby. So responsive. Who do you belong to?”

“You.” Malcolm breathes out instantly. There’s never been anyone else who came close.

He’s rewarded with a single finger, pressed in easily. It’s just enough to feel friction, just a touch of stretch and suggestion of what is still to come. “So beautiful. God, I love you.” After only a moment he adds a second finger but then takes his time, slowly moving in and out, as deep as he can go. Malcolm can feel every slide, every time Gil twists just a little, bends a knuckle. Each time he presses in deep it sends waves of pleasure through Malcolm’s nerves, leaves him a little looser, a little more lost to it.

“Do you want my cock, baby?” Gil punctuates his question by finding Malcolm’s prostate and pressing hard, massaging it with a steady rhythm so that Maclcolm’s whole back arches off the bed, air caught in his chest. All he can do is nod, tears already welling up in his eyes. He’s given no reprieve, but he can hear the smile in Gil’s voice. “You’re going to have to earn it. Do you understand.” 

Though Malcolm nods again, Gil shakes his head. “You need to answer me, baby. Do you understand?” Instead of letting up to allow him to answer, Gil adds his thumb to put just the right amount of pressure against his perineum. It’s like electricity in his veins. He can’t come like this, but the intensity is making him feel fucking alive. 

“Y… yes. Yes, sir.” He eventually manages through gasps of air with a breathy exhale. 

Malcolm falls with his back flat against the bed when Gil removes his fingers. He’s staring at the ceiling trying to get his eyes to focus again and reaching out for Gil while he still can. In a few minutes, he won’t be able to reach out at all, won’t even really be thinking about it. For now, he can enjoy the feeling of Gil’s hair between his fingers, the subtle gasp when he holds a little too tight to pull him in for a kiss. Once upon a time, Gil would have punished him for that, for stepping out of bounds. For breaking the rules even this early. But he indulges him tonight, he indulges him a lot more often, now, after everything they almost lost. 

While they kiss Gil uses the distraction to press the plug against his entrance, making Malcolm groan into the space between them. He presses it in and out in a teasing movement until it fully slips past his rim and settles there. It’s larger than his fingers, but not as thick as Gil’s cock, perfect for tonight, the perfect stretch, the perfect length to press into him during what’s coming next.

“On your knees.” 

Malcolm hums as he obeys without thought, a tingling sensation starting to build up just under his skin. He’s on his knees, knows what Gil wants. He knows what comes next. This is what he wants, what they both want. This is where he gets to let go.

These cuffs are different from those he sleeps in. Structurally, they’re pretty similar. But these are closer together, fastened at the head of their bed and a deep, rich brown leather lined in white fur. They don’t give him enough movement to unbind himself and they _can_ lock if they want to. 

Gil takes his time, circling his thumb over the pulse point in Malcolm’s wrists before slipping on the cuff each time, pulling his hands up to let a kiss linger on his knuckles. His pulse is already racing in anticipation, chest rising and falling in heavy motions. Once both hands are bound he tilts Malcolm’s chin so he can look him in the eyes.

“Color?”

“Green.” He breathes out instantly. “So green.” 

Before Gil moves away he leaves Malcolm with a hard, lingering kiss that leaves his lips burning and aching for more. 

But then he’s roaming his hands along Malcolm’s back, kneading down his spine. “Put that beautiful ass out for me, baby.” As Malcolm leans forward, knees still firmly planted on the mattress, Gil’s hands are replaced with his mouth. He kisses and bites down Malcolm’s back, the contrast of his lips and the bristle of his facial hair making Malcolm’s entire body roll as wave after wave of pleasure pulses through him. The trail leads him down to his ass, where he nips lightly, making Malcolm jerk forward with a gasp. 

“Fuck, you look so good like this, baby.” 

Malcolm whines when Gil pushes on the plug, giving it a few slow rotations then placing a gentle kiss right above it. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yes. Yes, sir. Please.” He’s whining now he’s been waiting so long. He just needs to feel it, to feel the sharp sting and release.

Gil backs away and for a split second Malcolm panics, there’s no touch, no voice to ground him in the here and now. But he breathes.

In.

Out.

Gil is here.

Gil is taking care of him.

_Smack._

Malcom cries out in absolute pleasure, his entire body tensing in a flash then relaxing as the wave of endorphins wash over him. 

_Smack._

The next one lands exactly where the last had, leaving more of a sting, more of a release of pleasure. “Fuck, yes. Gil. More.” He pleads with him, though he doesn’t need to.

“I’ve got you, baby.”

_Smack, Smack._

Two more in quick succession, too quick to let anything subside after the first one so the tension racks up higher, the release of it all heavier, more potent. He can feel himself slipping, his mind starting to go static. 

Again, on the other cheek, working him up to quick raps until he can’t count them any more.

Everything is lost in a haze of pleasure and pain, each time the pain stops his body reacting with more fierce come downs. 

The sounds are muffled… voice distant…

Except.

Except except.

The rattle of a chain.

His chain.

The chain at his hands. Holding him down. And the pain is not enough but it’s too much. It’s wrong but it’s familiar. It’s too sharp but it still hurts. 

His hands are bound and he can’t move. He can’t get away. He can’t breathe. He needs his hands. Why are both hands bound? It’s supposed to be only one. Only one. So he could get away even though getting away meant pain. So much pain. This is all wrong. Where is he supposed to be? There’s a flash of a kiss, a flash of a fist. He doesn’t know which one is happening. 

“Malcolm!”

There’s a word.

Something.

He should have said it already.

The world is heavy.

“ _BRIGHT!”_

Bright. 

Bright. Bright. 

He knows that name. He knows that voice. When he feels like this and he hears that voice he’s supposed to do something. When he hears that voice, when he feels like this he’s supposed to, he’s supposed to…

“Gil! He’s, he’s here. I can’t, I can’t get....”

His chest hurts.

He can’t breathe.

But he’s _not_ in that cabin anymore. He can’t be. He left that nightmare behind. 

“I’ve got you, Malcolm. You’re safe. You’re in our bed and I’m here with you.” 

Something snaps in Malcolm’s head. 

“I’m okay.” He tries to convince himself more than anything. “I’m uh…”

“No, baby. You’re not okay. Hey. Hey, look at me.” 

His entire body is shaking in Gil’s arms and he can’t focus, can’t look, doesn’t want to see. So he reaches out desperately, clings to him and buries his face against his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t…”

“Don’t you dare, baby. Don’t apologize for this.” Gil is a strong and solid presence, one hand running along his back, the other curled around the back of his neck, thumb stroking gently, in small, steady circles. “Just breathe with me, okay?” 

It takes him a minute to realize he’s not tied down any longer. He curls up on his side, trembling uncontrollably against Gil, his hands are free. He’s not tied up. He’s not in that cold cabin basement anymore. 

“I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe.” He is? He is. Gil is safety. Gil is warmth and love and home. “Can you tell me what serotonin is?”

He can. He knows this. But his brain is still too full of static, it can’t get air, he can’t…

The hand at the back of his neck squeezes.

Malcolm takes a long, deep breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, uh, it um, it’s a neuro… neurotransmitter. People uh, people call it the the um…” Gil’s chest rises and falls, a steady rhythm, up, down, in, out. “People call it the happy chemical but it is it is a lot more than that.”

“Oh? What’s it do then?” Gil’s hands are still holding him, protecting him. 

Finally, Malcolm can see straight. He’s still catching his breath, but it comes easier now. “Fuck all for me, most days.” He sighs as he looks up into Gil’s worried eyes.

“There you are, baby.” Gil’s desperate sigh of relief is followed by a deep kiss. It's like Malcolm has been dipped into a bath of warm water, comfort and weightlessness, a heat that only this man can ever provide for him. “I need to go get something before you crash too hard - again. Count to ten, I’ll be back before you’re done okay?”

Malcolm nods, trusting him to return.

At eight, a heavy blanket is wrapped around his shoulders and some of the shivering finally lets up, though his left hand still trembles like mad. “I’m right here.” Gil’s words are soft, close. He wraps one arm around Malcolm’s shoulders, tight and reassuring, while he holds out a steaming mug. 

Hints of citrus and honey fill the air. Malcolm breathes deep, letting it wash over him before reaching for the tea. This is how it used to be. When they’d go all night, round after round, pushing Malcolm’s limits until he begged to be fucked, to find release. Gil would give him what he wanted, the way Gil wanted to give it. He’d scream and curse through his orgasm before Gil followed him over, filling him perfectly every time. But then comes the fall, the come down. Always, a soft blanket. A hot mug of tea. Soothing kisses and even more gentle words. He’s sure there’s lotion for where the crop had been used. But that comes in a few minutes. He has to drink his tea first. Soothe the inside. Then the outside.

“That was unexpected.” Malcolm blinks into his mug before taking a long swallow of it.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now.” Gil assures him. 

He nods and drinks more of his tea, focusing on the heat and sweetness of the liquid and the pressure of Gil's hands on his body. The numbness that had settled over him is slowly abating, bring replaced bit by bit until he feels more himself.

"You did so good, baby." Hardly. But Malcom doesn't say anything. "You did everything you were told and you did it so well…" Gil continues to hold him close and cover him in praises for a long time. Malcolm hears every word, every inflection, every truth. He doesn't stop until what is left of his tea has gone cold and his shaking completely stopped. 

"I love you, Gil."

Gil kisses him, slow and sweet.

"I love you too. You ready to lay out?"

After nodding Malcolm rolls over, letting the blanket fall to the side and stretching out on his stomach. He grabs a pillow to curl his arms around and lay his head on as Gil gets to work.

The ointment for his ass is first, spread with extreme care and a tender touch. Gil switches to a massage oil after that and works it slowly into the small of his back. They’re silent for a long time, Gil’s hand working methodically, long strokes with his palms along Malcolm’s sides, knuckles working out knots along his spine and shoulders. His fingers glide along his neck and then down again, over and over until all Malcolm knows is his touch. 

"You know," he begins while working long strokes of pressure into his muscles, "I never knew how to do any of this until you." Malcolm blinks and makes a hum off acknowledgement to let him know he's listening. "You asked for more and I was desperate to give you everything. The first time you took me to a dungeon I was blown away. But more than that I was fascinated by the look on your face - the way your eyes just lit up. So I watched. I listened. I read, and I learned."

Malcolm remembers that first trip like it happened yesterday - the fascination in Gil's face, the way he had touched him - possessive. The way they had fucked. It was the first time Gil had completely let go and it had only continued to get better from there.

"And I may have only done it all for you, but I loved it. I still do. But I don't need it."

They move while Malcolm parses that out, Gil setting everything off to the side before laying down, pulling Malcolm close so he's half laying on top of the older man. He runs the tip of his index finger all over Gil's chest while Gil strokes his hair absently.

"You're giving me an out." He can hear Gil's heartbeat, strong and steady.

"I'm making sure you're not pushing yourself for me."

Malcolm rolls forward just enough to plant a kiss at Gil's sternum. "I need this." He admits after a long pause. "Not for the reasons I used to. Well, not only those reasons. But because I can't…" Gil's hand slips from his hair to his neck and he places a settling kiss to the top of his head. "He - they took so much from me, my whole life. This is just another on a laundry list of things but I can't let him take this too."

" _We_ won't, baby. I promise we won't."

They both fall silent, simply existing together, wrapped up in one another for comfort, warmth. Gil has held him together for so long, through so much, so many ups and downs across his entire life. Time and time again he's been there, holding him up, holding him together. Malcolm loves him with everything he has, and more than that, he believes him. 

  
  



End file.
